


Just Because You Don't Believe In Hel Doesn't Mean You Won't End Up There

by misreall



Series: Admitting No Impediment [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: An AU of an AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: Other Loki and other Nora run into some relationship snags.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd and may not make sense if you haven't read my other stuff.

 

Loki was distracted.

Preoccupied.

His head was not in the game. He was in the clouds, scatterbrained, inconscient, heedless, careless, bemused, unobservant, fascinated, faraway, and yet again, scatterbrained.

All of which was unprecedented.

Even Thor noticed.

“Brother, um, at the feast last night, perhaps you did, that is to say, had not realized, that the First Amongst Ladies was still speaking to you when you wandered off. To stare out of the window.  Which I am certain was for a reason of great significance, but it was rather rude.  Not to worry though _. I_ handled it!”  Then, in a less proud tone, he added, “I don’t especially think I am good at handling things.  Perhaps if you could stop being like this?”

Loki barely heard him. Which was to say he heard him entirely but his brain had prioritized his brother’s talking, as it usually did, as being insignificant.  He had known what Thor was going as soon as they arrived back at their temporary residence, at any rate.

If he had allowed himself to deteriorate to such a degree that Thor had to shroud his bad behavior then something had to done. And then, once done, he would have to find a way to repair whatever damage Thor’s ‘handling’ had no doubt caused. 

Loki clapped his brother on the shoulder, “Thank you. Not to worry, I think by tomorrow you will find me back to myself.”  And with that he stalked down the hall to the room he had taken as his study and workspace, already working out if he had all of the potion components he would need.

 

Nora’s phone rang. _Royals._

Loki.

Three in the morning. Part of her wanted to pretend to have been asleep, be annoyed that he felt he could call when he wanted and she would always be there, but Nora had never been a good game player, and Loki was the best.  He would see through her before she finished fake-yawing.

Besides, she wouldn’t lie to herself either. The last two months had been unbelievable and she knew that when he returned to Asgard she would never see him again, so there was no way she would let herself miss a moment of whatever it was between them.

Sex, certainly.

After New York, Nora had returned to Chicago and tried to pretend that her normal life was fine. So she had had world altering sex with an alien god?  In his hotel room, on his couch, in his bed, and in the tub.  And then in the elevator. 

And _her_ hotel floor.

And in the back of the car on the way to the airport.

Having the most gorgeous creature alive acting as if he was ravenous for her. Couldn’t keep his hands off of her.  Making her feel beautiful and fascinating and maybe a little like a goddess.  People got over things like that all of the time.

When she got back to work she had been pretty much a mess. Not outside.  Nora had long since mastered the ability to function at her job without her actual brain being involved.  And, strangely, the Roxxon take-over actually made it easier since everyone was so frenetic not even her closest work friends like Marissa and Carolyn seemed to notice anything was wrong with her.

Then she would go home and sigh. Moon.  Long.

It was all very pitiful and she refused to take any pity on herself. Even if she found herself putting on her aunt’s most maudlin records, staring at nothing for long stretches.

She even sang a devastating “Don’t Come the Cowboy With Me Sunny Jim” at the Temple karaoke session one Friday. There may have been some swaying in the crowd. Even when Patrick had ended their engagement she hadn’t been this silly.

Also, masturbation had lost a lot of its shine. Which was especially tragic since she now had such good (and detailed) fantasy material.

Then, one afternoon in June, Nora had been called into the new boss, Don’s office. She wasn’t too worried about it.  With the transition she had become a de facto department head and Roxxon was big on ‘face-time.’  In addition to silver fox Don and his inseparable assistant Lisa, there was a tall, elegant man in a grey suit lounging in one of the leather chairs.  The office was halfway between the old manager’s golf trophy and grandchildren’s pictures design aesthetic and Don’s more Teutonic tastes, and this visitor definitely clashed with the old décor.

He rose and kept rising, towering over her, thick auburn curls framing a handsome, weirdly familiar face. He had glasses.  And a beard.  Like the hottest professor at an important university.  The one who had a reputation for occasionally bending a student over his desk…  Exactly her former type.

Damn.

“Miss Walsh, Nora, this is Dr. Rasmussen, the new consultant we mentioned in the ‘Breaking New Boundries’ sub-meeting last week.” Lisa said, since Don virtually never spoke himself.  “We were hoping you could show him around the building, let him get the feel of the place.”

He was a consultant. And just like that, poof, he was no longer hot.

She had tried to make the tour as quick as possible, but the facilities were just large enough, and poorly laid out enough, that it took over an hour to cover everything vital. Rasmussen was quite chatty, and almost, ALMOST, charming.  Asking actually relevant questions and making a number of common sense observations.  Nora had to stop herself more than once asking he was really a consultant.

When they reached the dock at the end of the tour Nora was actually sorry to be done.

“So, that is pretty much everything. If you follow me we can head back to Don’s office,” she said, at last.

He sort of smiled and frowned at her at the same time. “Yes, thank you.”  His voice had a cool rasp and just a touch of some Scandinavian accent that she couldn’t quite make out.  “I do have one last question.  What is in here?” 

He aimed a thumb back over his shoulder at a closed, unmarked door.

“Oh, that’s just one of the old janitorial rooms. Nothing important.  I think it’s been out of use for years."

Something shifted in his gaze, going from being genial to predatory and his smile was like the flicker of a snake’s tongue. “Perfect.”

Before Nora could even tell what was happening he had pulled the door open and yanked her in the tiny room, then she was backed against the wall and before the door could finish closing, plunging them into darkness, he had lifted her and was kissing along her neck and jaw, his broad, cool hands under her blouse, framing her waist.

Horrified, Nora realized she wasn’t fighting him. She was grabbing his long, silken hair and wrapping herself around him, moaning.  This was wrong.  This was assault.  It was definitely against company policy.  It was-

Wait.

Long, silken hair?

Avoiding the mouth that was trying to latch on to hers, Nora flayed out with her arm, trying to reach the light switch.

A hot, sibilant voice, deep and full of sin, whispered in her ear, “Would you like some light, sweet Nora?”

Oh. Fucking.  Hell.

Rather than coming from the nasty, dirty light fixture, a sort of golden light just filled the air.

Loki’s green eyes were blown to near black, his mouth wet, and he licked his lips, “Angry?”

“Furious. Don’t stop.”  Nora kissed him with all of the pent up need of the last few weeks, biting his mouth, rubbing her center against his torso.  She swore she could feel every ridge of muscle drag on her clit.

He opened his fly (still no underwear, she was giddy to feel) and his cock brushed against her thighs, damp and jumping. He slipped his fingers between her legs, kneading and massaging through her panties, soaking his fingers, not making her come but holding her still against the wall rubbing and rubbing until she her teeth were on his shoulder, squeaking on the wool and she tried to take a chunk out of him in her need to fucking come.

And then her panties were gone, just gone, and he practically dropped her on his cock, transfixing her in a pained and ecstatic scream.

There was no finesse, just Loki battering himself into Nora, as if he were trying to punish them both for something.

Nora swore she could hear the concrete wall creak, but she didn’t care if the whole building came down on them. She didn’t care that her voice and Loki’s name were probably now very well known to the workers on the dock, and that they were probably learning a lot about Asgardian profanity as well.

When she came it was a roll of pleasure and grace that more resembled a fit of religious mania than anything like the beautiful thing it was, making her convulse and rave and clutch him tight within her, her vision gone in a mass of both darkness and lights.

He roared, like a tiger challenging a rival, and buried his face against her breasts, riding out his own orgasm for what seemed like a year and a day.

Finally, Nora came back to herself, “Well, this is awkward.”

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. No one heard anything.  I would never share a single note of your cries with another being.  They are for me alone.”

The rest of the summer had pretty much gone along those lines, with Loki showing up (often) unexpectedly and in a different guise every time, to spend a few hours with her. Once he had been a slightly gawky British student with Harpo Marx hair and a very posh accent, making her feel like a bit of a cougar as they went to the beach together and he ignored an unending stream of pretty college girls in bikinis.

Another time he had shown up at the Temple on a Friday, looking almost too skinny, sporting indian black eyes, and a broad Southern accent. He had listened to her sing, and then, before she could off the stage, jumped up and cajoled her into a duet of “Jackson.”

They hadn’t always had sex. There was the time she had a summer cold and they had spent the afternoon sprawled on her aunt’s huge couch, Nora’s head in Loki’s lap.  He spoke to her softly, stroking her forehead and telling her stories of his family while she drifted in and out of sleep, his voice filling her dreams with visions of heroics and absurdity.

So Nora didn’t pretend that she hadn’t been waiting for him to call and tell her the inside scoop about dinner with the Obamas. As a proud Southsider Nora adored them and she was happily jealous of Loki.

“Hey, your highness, dinner must have been something special if you aren’t calling until now. First things first, what was Michelle wearing?”

There was an unfamiliar, cool boredom in Loki’s voice. “Nora, we need to talk.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously un-beta'd, but I needed to get this done so can start thinking about my longer work.
> 
> And I really needed a happy ending this week.

Frigga, Queen of Asgard and Unofficial AllMother to the Nine Realms looked at the remains of what _had_ been her younger son’s rooms in the building he had rented for his and his brother’s extended stay in Los Angeles.

It had probably been, by Midgardian standards, a very luxurious place, with an excellent view of the ocean.

Now, however, there was little enough still existing of the furnishings to tell what function any given piece might have served. And while the view was still excellent, the lack of glass in the windows caused the warm breeze to be a touch on the heavy side.  Frigga leaned out one of the floor to ceiling openings and looked down.  Fortunately they were on the backside of the building, so only a large number of sad trees and shrubs had paid the price for Loki’s temper tantrum.

“At least the bulk of the harm was done to this place alone.” She sighed, looking back at the smoldering ruin of what had, perhaps, been a desk.

“Yes, mother, that is a good thing indeed.” Thor said, not quite looking at her.

If it had been his room in this state Frigga would not have been so very surprised. A bit surprised, but not very.  But Loki!  She could not understand it.   Just the night before he had sent word to his father and her that things on their tour were going even better than expected, but that they were all looking forward to returning home.  He had seemed his usual cool self. 

Mayhap, thinking on it now, a bit too cool…

When she had received Thor’s panicked message that Loki was missing, and, in his words, “some things were on fire. But not too many things,” she had grabbed her nearest cloak and handmaiden and made haste to Heimdall.

“I still do not understand what –“ Frigga stopped herself. There was a familiar, or at least not unfamiliar, odor underneath the charred wood and singed plastic.

Fjölkyngi. And a potion as well.

Which was not unusual in itself. Loki was the most gifted practitioner of magic in his generation on Asgard.  Maybe in the Realm’s history.  While he had not given her any indication he had need of his gifts on this peaceful mission it was more than in his character to engage in a working during his quiet times simply to keep his skills sharp.

But this was different.

Frigga tossed aside remnants of couches and bookshelves until she found what she was looking for. An egg-shaped metal flask that had been crushed under a heavy foot.  In it she could smell lemon, dirt, dog hair, black and red pepper, and a number of oils and herbs not found on Midgard. 

The container was icy to the touch, though it had sat under a burning desk for hours.

Damn.

“Thor, when did your brother start dousing himself with a potion to leash his emotions?”

“Um….” Thor toed the now ruined carpeting.

“If my son is suddenly mute perhaps one of his loyal companions might speak for him?”

Sif and the Warriors Three were variously fascinated by the ceiling, the wall, the broken windows, and the one piece of decorative pottery that had escaped destruction.

Frigga lifted an eyebrow. And then cleared her throat.

Everyone spoke at once.

“Loki was distracted, mother-“

“He was spending time away, a great deal of time-“

“….staring out of windows….”

“….not sure if it was him or a double when we met ….”

“---said he was in Chicago. I do not know what that word even-“

“…Mistress Nora…”

“… and then he kept saying how hot it was all of the time…”

“Then he yelled at the phone, “SHE HAS A DATE!” and that was when he tore his coat and shirt off and turned into a dragon and flew away.”

Frigga raised a hand. “So Loki became infatuated, or perhaps even more, with a Midgardian woman who Thor nearly killed, and was finding ways to spend time with her.  And rather than be pleased for his happiness you felt that he should concentrate on the more important matters so you could all enjoy yourselves?  Not you, Hogun, I am sure you were not so spoiled as my son and his other companions.”

Thor, Sif, Volstagg, and Fandral each blushed a red so deep it was audible.

Hogun side-eyed his friends and nodded once.

“And being Loki, and just as foolish in his own way as the rest of you, he used a calming potion to end his desire for this… Nora? Nora.  How long ago did he end things with her?”

Thor spoke, a tiny voice coming from his beard, “Three months, I believe.”

Frigga squeezed the flask, turning it into a ball of slag. “Three months?  Do we know where the girl lives?”  She shook her head, trying to calculate the caroming return of feeling to her son after three months of taking a potion meant to be taken for no more than ten days.  Bor help that poor girl.

 

Nora had just finished a very disheartening and failed date (not that she was surprised) and was about to pick up her aunt’s geriatric dog from her neighbor Mario when she was kidnapped by something the size of a school bus that picked her up and flew off with her.

Generally under stressful situations Nora was calm. Maybe it had to do with her unorthodox upbringing by her musician aunt.  Maybe it was her stubborn refusal to be the type of person who panicked and needed to be taken care of.  Maybe it was just an act.

Regardless, no one had the _sang froid_ , or the brass balls, for this situation, so she wasn’t embarrassed when she woke up some time later, having fainted dead away.

When Nora came around she was wrapped up by something heavy and warm. No, something almost too hot, but it felt good because the air itself was quite cold.  She opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the dark, running her hand along whatever the coiled cylinder was she that was laying on.

It was smooth, with regular bumps. She kept stroking it, trying to figure out what it was.  One of her legs was slung over it, and as she touched it the thing grew warmer and tightened, getting a little more in her very personal space than Nora could deal with.

Hiking up her skirt, she crawled over it, and stood, turning and smoothing her skirt down.

It was a dragon. She had been laying in the coils of a great big black fuck-off fucking dragon that now stared at her with sleepy, green, cat eyes.

Familiar eyes.

“Oh, go to hell you bastard!” Nora yelled, grabbing a rock, since they were everywhere, since they were in a fucking cave!  She slung the rock, hitting the monster in the nose, turning to run for the mouth of the cave.

It was fortunate that Nora had lost her shoes somewhere between Chicago and the dragon’s cave, because it was just by curling her toes and throwing herself backwards that she kept from falling to her death from the cave that was so high in a mountain that she couldn’t see the earth for the clouds.

Before she could land on her ass, hot, strong hands grabbed her arms and she was pulled backwards against a wall of armor and muscle. A deep, husky voice whispered in her ear, words she didn’t understand. 

“What- what are you saying?”  She was having trouble catching her breath suddenly.  “Is that –“

Something about the words…. Something he had told her before…

“Are you casting a spell on me you absolute ass?”

A dark laugh echoed through her head and between her legs, making her throb and go wet.

“Three months, my sweet, sweet Nora, my lovely girl. Three months of need denied.  I have been burning under the ice for you.  And you for me.”  Loki’s voice was almost singsong, nearly mad, driving her mad, too.  “Three months worth of everything that might have been between us.”  One hand cupped her right breast and one long finger teased her nipple, “I am merely drawing it all together.”

Three months of being bitter. Three months of not knowing why he had ended things.  And the way he did.  So business-like and formal.  Polite, practical, cold.  Three months of not being able to even commiserate with friends and get drunk and curse him out, because she hadn’t told anyone, not wanting to embarrass him.  Not wanting people to know that the Prince of Asgard was slumming it with a South Side girl with a shitty office job and no car.

Loki could clearly feel her tense, and he whipped her body around to face him. He wore his ceremonial armor, something that she had only seen in pictures.  The black leather and green plate molded to his body, accented with pure gold.  Heavy boots and a long emerald coat of velvet.  Even the enormous horned helmet.  Nora had always thought it was rather silly looking.

It wasn’t.

It did something to Loki’s already beautiful, stark face, making him look both feral and regal. King of the Wolves.  A prince of cats.  A dragon.

He pulled her against his body, and she could feel every inch of him straining towards her.

“Sear me to ash, hate me, but I am going to take us to delirium first.” His voice was so deep it thrummed up through the stone ground and into her pulse.

Before he could kiss her, Nora reached up, grabbing the smooth, curved horns of his helm and pulled herself up against him, planning to push a biting kiss against his so-clever mouth.

He reached up, snaring her wrists and gently, so gently and firmly drew her hands away, holding them in the air, so she was off balance and on tip-toe, and then kissed her, softly, small, pecking kisses that just brushed the bare inside of her lips with his own, softly, gradually, with all of eternity to spend, drawing her into a malleable rage.

Loki moved her hands so now he only used one hand to hold her precarious position, and with the other shredded the little black dress that she had spent money she couldn’t afford to buy so she had something to wear for him. That she had worn tonight on her date just to prove to herself that she could.

He snapped off her one expensive bra, worn because she was damned if she wasn’t going to take that guy home tonight. Even if she didn’t want him.  And tore the matching panties, the only set like that she owned, and wore on her date because she the guy was cute and she was going to do something about it.

She hadn’t.

Because she only wanted Loki. Only all spring.  Only all summer.  Only all fall, after he broke her heart, even though she told herself all fall he hadn’t.  Only and forever.

Damn him.

Then, suddenly, he was naked, too, and he had let go of her wrists, and then she was falling into him, and they were on cold ground, and Nora had fistfuls of his long hair, and was kissing him so hard she thought she might be bruising her teeth, and he was yielding under her anger, and when she gasped his beautiful (and fuck him for it being beautiful) cock he arched up so hard she almost flew off of him.

Instead she squeezed against his long muscles, rubbing herself on his stomach, and squeezed his silky prick, hurting him just as much as she could.

“Fuck me.” He breathed up into her face.

Something in her anger broke in half at his voice, and Nora raised herself up, teasing his tip against her heat until he grabbed at the ground and crumbled stone.

They made matching sounds as he slid home into her swollen, liquid cunt. Nora ground against Loki as if she would obliterate him.  He clutched her hips, leaving purple bruises, and used her to fuck himself.  She bit his tensed jaw and then along his long neck and down onto his chest, leaving livid marks on his not-quite-immortal flesh.

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come.”  Loki ordered, and Nora obeyed, teasing herself with two fingers until she spasmed around his cock, slumping over him like a willow over water.

He picked her up, sliding her off of him, and she whimpered as it sent her into a small after tremor. “What are you doing?  You haven’t-“

Loki kissed the words out of her mind, carrying her farther into the cave, “Not yet, treasure, not yet.”

 

For seven days and nights, while Asgard secretly searched the Realms for its missing prince, Loki serviced Nora’s needs as well as his own.

He would pleasure her with his mouth, or fingers, or cock. He would have her ride his thigh, or take him in her fiery mouth, or sweet cunt, and once, after careful, agonizingly exact preparation, her delicious ass.   No matter what form their joining took he would not end it until she had come to screaming.  Never coming himself, when Nora slept he would take to the skies and hunt for her, bringing back delicacies that he would insist on feeding her with his own hands, wine that they would sip from the same cup, bathing her as if her were her handmaiden.

And Nora, not sure if she was bespelled or meanly enthralled, allowed all of it, all the while trying to argue herself out of it.

“Why am I letting you do this to me?” She moaned as she pushed up against him, her thighs over his shoulders, watching him stroke and pet her clit, watching him slid in and out of her, over and over and over until she was delirious.

“Because it is what you want, treasure.”

“Ohhhh, keep doing that. And stop calling me treasure.”

“Always. And never.”

On the seventh day Loki woke Nora, rolling her onto her stomach and taking her from behind, bracing himself over her body like a cage of bone and muscle. “You’re just for me Nora.  Squeeze me.”

Nora tightened her cunt around him, not moving any other part of her. “Now release me.”  Under Loki’s whispers Nora gripped and loosened over and over again, both of them otherwise still, pulling him a little closer with each motion until his cock so deep in her that it ached and made her shake with a glorious pain.

Soon the throes were out of her control, wild and only Loki’s hand under her forehead kept her from beating her skull on the rock floor, and then he was stabbing wildly into her and begging her to come one more time. For him and with him.

And then she felt him stiffen and arch and days, no month, worth of wanting boiled out of him in a shout that brought down a mountain.

Luckily, Jotunheim had plenty more where that came from.

 

When Nora woke up she was warmly snuggled in a pile of furs, Loki in a less reptilian form wrapped around her, and several people staring down at her.

She knew Thor. And Sif.  The Warriors Three of course.

She wasn’t quite sure who the stunningly beautiful older woman with the regal bearing and amused look was, however.

Nora pulled the furs up around her neck, while elbowing Loki, “Wake up, you ass.”

The woman snorted, trying to hide it with her hand.

With a sleepy smile Loki kissed her, and then raised an eyebrow at their guests.

The woman shook her head, “I have to admit, when Thor suggested the sacred Jotunn Mountains I was uncertain, but clearly he knows you better than I have given him credit for.”

Nora tugged, hard at Loki’s hair, “Who is that?”

Loki kissed her again, very lightly, “Nora, I am honored to introduce you to Queen Frigga, my mother, Queen of Asgard and AllMother of the Nine Realms. Mother, I am equally honored to introduce you to Nora Walsh of Chicago, Midgard. Head of Customer Service and my wife.”

Nora made a noise.

“On Jotunheim, at any rate.” He added, “I imagine we will need something a bit more formal for father.”

“Loki-“ Nora looked like an angry swarm of bees.

“Treasure, say yes. You will be such a lovely princess.”

Nora peered into his face. He was quite serious.  “I don’t think I am ready.” 

They might as well have been alone.

“Then I will wait.”

 

Three months later Loki was proved right, much as Nora hated to admit it.   She did make a rather lovely princess after all.

 

 

 

 


End file.
